Matter Of Perspective
by InheritanceArtist
Summary: Simply a fluffy oneshot that details Arya's POV in 2 of my fav. Inheritande Cycle moments Flames welcome. **COME ONE COME ALL!**


Seriously, if I OWNED this, I could make it alot more juicy than Paolini does. I hate disclaimers. They make me sad.

**_Image of Perfection- Eldest_**

''Why is he looking at me like that?'' Arya thought while trying to avoid making eye contact with Eragon's anxious gaze. ''Why did it have to be _me_ that caught his attention. I might be able to understand why he would be interested with me in the Empire, but not here in the middle of Ellesmera. There are plenty of female elves much more comely than I am, and I doubt he would attempt to attain me just because of my royal blood. He would have nothing to gain by doing as such.

Eragon closed his eyes but his face remained solid, and he maintained what seemed like in-human focus for a few moments. Then his eyes opened, and he released a startled gasp. I was suddenly convinced that I did not want to know what he had made. I had a terrible feeling that he had once again let his reckless side get the better of him.

''Eragon, what have you wrought?"asked Oromis.

"I dont know..."he whispered.

I _knew_ it. I thought I could trust him to be a better friend than that. He had to ruin everything everyone had worked to build for him and Saphira, simply because of his ignorance.

"What is it?" Orik asked.

Orimis extended a deceavingly weak looking hand in request for the stone. Eragon obliged with a silent reluctance. His expression was comparable to that of a small child anticipating a fierce scolding from their elder. I watched curiously as Orimis' eyes wandered along the pigments that I had yet to behold. His gaze flickered up to me, then back down to the fairth. Suddenly, he was handing it to me.

I reluctantly looked down at the heavy stone in my hands. It seems that the phrase"Bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders" is a bit exagerated in most cases, except this one. Looking right at the portrait of myself expertly done on the fairth was worse than fighting in the battle at Farthen Dur. Every color was another broken bone, every line of my face was another sword blow, all dealt by Eragon. The fairth shook in my grip, but I didnt resist it, as I usually did. I embrased it, releasing all of my anger, rage, and unwelcomed joy that Eragon felt this way about me. Somehow, I had always known... I just could not accept it. With a slightly involuntary movement, I hurled the fairth against the ground with all the force I could muster.

* * *

My throat burned with liquid fire as clotted blood continued to crowd the back of my mouth. My vision haunted past memories, at an almost random pattern. I thought of Faolin, and how he would simply reject my affection... much the same way I treat Eragon. He refused to reciprocate my feelings for him no matter how hard I tried. Then my thoughts moved to Eragon, and how he saved me at Gilead. How he layed his and Saphira's lives on the line just to reach into my mind and save me. How he flew to Farthen Dur, and demanded that, above all else, I was treated for the poison that threatened my life.

I thought of how he worried for my wellbeing during our travels in Du Weldenvarden and put my happiness before his, always. But most of all, I thought back to before his battle with Murtagh, and how I came so unbearably close to telling him that I might . . . love him, no matter how much I should'nt. He has become such a part of me that I could never imagine life without him. Not just because he defends us from evil Riders, but because he is one of the most incredible people I have ever met. I find myself in a somber mood whenever he is far away and I am alone. I just sit there not knowing if the man I love is still alive or not. Helgrind was one of the worst times of my life, which was why I volunteered to go find him. When I did find him in Melian, and that man accused Eragon of wanting to get rid of him so Eragon could be alone with me, I ferverently hoped that he did. Having to share a room with Eragon was morbid torture. Hearing his measured breathing throughout the night was unbearable as he slept on the floor at my feet.

"Waise heill" said Eragon. I had'nt realized that I was unconcious until my vision flickered, and I gazed up at the only person I would ever need.

"Eragon. . . ?" I heard myself whisper.

"Better?" he confirmed

''Better,'' I assured him, giving him a weak smile.''We killed him...We killed him yet we did not die.'' I was shocked at how surprised I sounded. ''So few have ever killed a shade and lived.''

''That is because they fought alone, not together, like us.''

''Yes...not like us.'' Not like us,_ indeed._

"Wait. How are you able to know all of this so quickly? I thought you said all of this happened only hours ago? I thought they were in Gilead.

"I'll explain later.I cant explain all of this more than once without crying uncontrollably." he whispered.

"Eragon. . ." I whipered in an almost longing voice. I threw myself into his arms without thinking twice about it. He had been kneeling, so he caught me sat back with his back to the wall while I lay my head across his chest. I lay there my body lying on top of his body length-wise. I could hear his steady breathing compared to my ragid sobs, but felt imensely better when he raised his hand and began gently stroking my hair. I thought back to a time when if he was cradling me and stroking my hair like this, I would storm out of the room in deep frustration. But after experiencing all of this, witnessing all of this, ... loosing all of this, I welcomed it as another chance at love. Anyone could tell you that elf-Rider relationships seldom survive, but all I knew right then that it was true. Our predecessors _were_ not like us. We might loose our homes, family, even our lives in the months to come, but this was what we had _right now- _each other. was that I loved the man who was holding me, and that I never wanted to let go.


End file.
